


An Appointment in Midlands

by williamcain



Series: Cognition and Behavior [1]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Nonbinary Frisk (Undertale), neuroatypical
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-13 00:12:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16881930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/williamcain/pseuds/williamcain
Summary: Everyone has been saved. Frisk's Determination has saved even Asriel. Ten years later, an eighteen year old Frisk determines that they need saving of their own, for reactions they can't quite understand.





	1. Borders and Boundaries

"Name?"

The border guard was a human. Monsters hadn't been approved to work the checkpoints yet. Undyne was training several eager candidates, but the humans who had agreed to establish the town of Midlands as a sort of halfway point between the monster kingdom and the human lands had yet to approve any of them. There was already some debate as to whether they actually would. 

The teen's left hand moved to the side of their denim, and a finger began rubbing at the seam of the jeans. Slowly, not frantically, for now.

"Frisk Dreemur." They passed a slim passport with associated visa to the guard through the slot at the bottom of the glass. Criminy, it was cold up here. It was like Snowdin after hours. 

"Purpose of your visit?" The guard asked, opening the document and looking slowly from the picture to Frisk's face.

"Doctor's appointment." _Could you be any slower?_ They wondered. The finger continued to move along the seam of the jeans.

"Are you carrying any concealed weapons or magical items?"

"No."

"Are you importing any fruits, vegetables, or other produce originating in the monster kingdom?"

"I'm not."

"Are you..." 

The questions went on for approximately half an hour, which made it the longest such a visit had taken yet. The list kept growing each visit they made to the mixing bowl of a town. Yet even bureaucracy couldn't last indefinitely, and the stamp was produced. Frisk fancied they saw a look of reluctance on the guard's face, but they had their entry stamp and all was well. Taking their papers, Frisk nodded to the official.

"Thank you, officer. I hope you have a nice day."

The guard just blinked slowly, then nodded and waved Frisk through. "Next..."

~~~~~~

It was worse outside the entry station. It wasn't snowing yet, but the wind here at the base of Mt. Ebott was picking up as if in anticipation of the winter weather. Toriel made a great sweater with her knitting needles, but Frisk still could feel their skin numbing.

 _New Jacket before I go home. After the doc._ Toriel would understand, surely. 

Surely.

Hunching their shoulders, Frisk made their way down the streets. It was a generous term for the primarily gravel pathways between the various pre-fabricated buildings and trailer offices. Midlands had been assembled quickly, and then left more or less in place. Newer construction was going up in a few places as more permanent institutions outgrew their initial habitations, but the Office Of Human and Monster Relations only had so much budget to work with and entice new development in the town. 

Gravel crunched under Frisk's shoes as they turned left off Main and onto 4th, a mile into town. They glanced curiously at a new looking storefront, "Surplus and Supply," before walking up the steps of a small trailer with the Sign "Dr. Holt, PhD." They rapped on the metal door, and a buzz answered, followed by a click of the latch. Pulling it open, Frisk stepped inside.

The interior was nicer than the outside. The doctor had apparently put some effort into the place. Couches of brown pleather and green corduroy sat facing eachother, with small bookshelves in easy reach. A coffee table sat between the couches, and a pod-cup coffee machine rested on a shelf. Calm photos, mostly of nature, adorned the walls, along with neutral, peaceful looking art pieces. Generic stuff one might find at any roadside motel, bought in bulk. Frisk even spied two of the same picture on opposite walls. _Cute._

"And you would be Frisk Dreemur, yes?" The doctor rose to greet her guest. She had a pleasant, if somewhat neutral looking smile. The smile you gave to someone because it was polite to do so. Because it was expected. Frisk understood the concept. 

"Yes." Frisk hesitated, finger touching the seam of their jeans before the hand twitched. Frisk raised their hand instead and extended it. "It's nice to meet you." _And I will kill to know where I can get a blouse like that...stoppit, dammit, do not flirt with your doctor._

"It's a pleasure to meet you as well. Please, have a seat." The doctor went to the coffee maker. "Would you like some coffee, or tea?" 

"Coffee please. Uh, three sugars."

"Of course." The refreshments were prepared, and the doc set the cups down opposite them. Frisk noted in a corner of their brain that the mugs were a heavy plastic with ceramic lining, instead of pure plastic. They took theirs and just let the aroma build. This was nice. Coffee was really soothing to just...breathe in like this.

"So, as I said before, you don't have to worry about payment for your first session. I know talking about money is crass, but I like to put it aside quickly at the beginning, so we can talk without worrying about it through the meeting."

Frisk nodded, their index finger of their right hand starting to trace the line of the mug's handle, slowly. It wasn't entirely rounded, it had flattened edges on the outside. They could feel the molding seam where the plastic had been pressed together. There was a small divot where an air bubble had formed. Mass produced. Inexpensive but not quite 'cheap.' Suitable to purpose. _human._

"With that said," the doctor continued, sitting back and taking out her notebook. "Tell me a bit about what you would like to discuss in our time together."

Frisk took a careful sip, but it was still too hot. They set the cup down on the coffee table, having to lean forward a little awkwardly to do so, then sat back, hands in their lap. 

"I'm tired almost all the time. I feel...tense? I'm not sure feel is the right word. But it seems like my body is always clenched up. I've been getting sciatica in my right leg, and well, it's not because of my weight." Frisk glanced down at their underweight frame. They'd been a rather round child, but had stretched ludicrously in the last few years. "I feel like I'm always holding part of my breath back."

The doctor nodded, jotting something down that couldn't possibly be a full accounting of what Frisk had said. _Shorthand?_

"Go on. And don't worry about "right" words. Just say what comes to mind, and we'll contextualize as we go." Her voice was easygoing yet confident, as if she were speaking of long experience. Which made sense.

"Alright." Frisk lowered their hands and thought a bit more. "I don't know how to explain it though. I find myself doing things I don't intend to. My attention goes everywhere. I don't sleep as much as I used to. I've found myself having arguments I didn't realize were arguments until halfway in with my family. I don't really _feel_ all that different, but things are different with us all the same."

"Tell me about your relationship with your family. You told me you were adopted, by the Dreemur family. Tell me what that's been like."

"Well..." Frisk trailed off, trying to think.

"No, don't editorialize. Start from the beginning, it's alright. Just go from when you met them til now."

"It's a hella long story, doc..."

"I've cleared my day for it, Frisk." She smiled. "My time is yours."

"Alright." 

And Frisk told her the tale of their adventures under Mt. Ebott, fervently glad that a human doctor couldn't commit a subject of the Bergetruckueng to a psychiatric hold. 

It took several hours. Even with the doctor guiding divergences back to the topic of the Dreemur household, it was nearly a decade of interactions to work through. Frisk almost left out the Resets and the Continues, but in the end they committed it all.

The doctor was quiet for a few minutes after Frisk finished. _There ought to be a clock._ Frisk thought as the silence went. _Something ticking. It's so quiet._

"Frisk, that...is a very powerful story." The doctor removed her reading glasses and let them hang from a chain on her neck, resting on the breast of her blouse. "And a complicated one."

 _I can be as complicated as you...DAMMIT BRAIN STOP THAT_ "Yeah, I figured."

"But it also reveals a surprisingly simple answer to what's been causing your anxiety."

"Anxiety? I'm not anxious," Frisk protested.

"Yes, Frisk, you are. Tension, subconscious emotional reaction to what should be comforting surroundings...these are very classic anxious traits. Nothing to feel guilty about, just a reaction. You're trying to, unconsciously that is, process the energy you're feeling. You feel you need to do something, to act, to protect yourself. This is common in your situation."

"Which is?" Frisk asked, curiosity genuine. The doc seemed to have a handle on this, and that was a surprise to Frisk. They'd thought it was just...what was that word...psychosomatic or something.

"Frisk, your family sounds very loving, and kind, and supportive of you in many ways."

"...yes, I know that." _The heck is she going with this?_

"And yet every one of them has seriously abused you, physically and psychologically." Her tone was gentle, and that made it worse.

_How dare you?_

"that's....that's absolutely crazy. What the hell, doc?"

Calmly, the doctor raised her left hand and began lifting fingers. "Your mother demanded you fight her, to the point of lethal harm. Your father tried to kill you. Your brother fought you with tremendous force, over and over, while insisting you "let him win for once" and insisting it was because he loved you."

"But that's...that's not what I meant." But Frisk found themselves trailing off. _Holy. Shit. DID I mean that?_ "But I love them. That can't be right."

"Frisk, it's natural to love them, they're your family. They took you in at a terrible time, in the wake of a horrifying experience." Dr. Hold smiled, with empathy clear in her eyes. "But blood doesn't wash out behavior. You were abused. I believe acknowledging that is the first step, but I understand if it's difficult. It can be very hard to contexualize your family in that sort of light."

 _I don't like that word._ "Ok..." Frisk said, fidgeting again. 

"Does your finger hurt when you do that?" The doctor asked, gently. 

Frisk blinked and looked down. They were rubbing the seam of the jeans again. A small red welt had developed on the pad of their finger. They lifted hands, folded them, and placed them in their lap. "Not really. It itches now though." 

"I'd recommend a stop at the drugstore, get a bandage and some ointment." The doctor stood and picked up a volume, passing it to Frisk. "I want you to go home, and read this. Normally I don't recommend this kind of homework, but you seem...remarkably put together for someone who's been through what you have. I think you might have a more rewarding result if you can see the matter more intellectually than I can go into in the time we have left."

Frisk looked over the book. "Recognizing and Understanding Abuse." They lifted their eyes back to the doc. "By Dr. Holt." 

The doctor chuckled. "Not me, I assure you. No relation at all, just one of those things." She shrugged. "He's a very good student of the subject, and he makes a very intellectual case. You might find it useful. I propose you take a week, read it, and then join me back here if you would like to continue your sessions." 

Frisk belatedly realized the "session" was apparently at an end. "ah. Yeah, time uh...got away from me there." They rose, awkwardly extending a hand. "Ok, I'll do that. I'll read the thing."

"Very good, Frisk, I'm glad. Please, don't hesitate to call if you have questions or clarifications. What we've discussed is a big deal, I don't want to understate that." She shook Frisk's hand, and ushered them to the door. Frisk was outside befor ethey knew it, blinking. _Is it supposed to end that quickly?_

With a grimace at the cold on their ears, Frisk walked down the steps in front of the trailer to the gravel, watching as the first snowflakes started to come down. 

_Flippin heck, I need a hat, don't I?_


	2. Surplus Justice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's snowing, and Frisk is cold. This is unjust. If only there were someone to bring JUST-ok ok, I'll stop.
> 
> Frisk meets a friend at the Surplus store.

Judging by the clouds coming in from the east, Frisk gathered that the snow wasn't going to be a light one. They grunted, rubbing their arms a bit. They had fifty bucks in a wallet and 20 gold in a little purselet-pouch thing, so...

_I wanted to get a nice lunch and some comics, but maybe I can pop in there and grab a jacket or something._

It wouldn't do to catch a bad chill on the way back up the mountain, so Frisk gave in and walked into the Surplus Supply. 

They were immediately met with shouting. 

"WHAT DO YA MEAN YA DON'T HAVE ANY SPEARS!"

_Oh dear god._

"Miss, this is an army/navy surplus store, and the army doesn't use spears..."

"DUH, that's why you should have them! There should be loads of them just not being used!"

"That isn't how that works!"

"Are you callin' me stupid!"

"What? NO! Please, I just..."

Frisk decided to save the clerk some grief and drifted over to a certain tall, blue figure in...a parka of all things. _Since when did Undyne dress more sensibly than me?_

"Ahem, hello Captain..."

Undyne spun about. "Whossat? HEYA kid!" She grinned and mimed slugging Frisk in the shoulder, though she was careful to miss. This lead to her punching a much-loved old ALICE rucksack off of a pile of used backpacks, and the storekeep winced, though how much a short fall would hurt a backpack, Frisk wasn't sure.

"Hey you." Frisk made themself chuckle, to show the punch hadn't been ill-received, and that the deliberate wiff was appreciated. "So why are you giving this guy a hard time?"

"HAH, can't fool you, can I?" Undyne slapped her leg with a hand, grinning with her razor sharp teeth.

"What." The storekeep said, flatly.

"I'm just messin' with ya grumpy," Undyne said, turning back. "You humans are so easy to work up! Nah, what I really need is like, twenty of those messy boxes."

"Mess kits." Frisk prompted.

"Them!" 

"...Jesus christ." The clerk rubbed his face. "Alright. Um, I have eleven in stock, but I can pick up a few more easy if you want to pay now. Why so many?"

"A buncha the little monsters are starting a Monster Scouts troop, and they'll need camping stuff!"

"Oh, huh. even the girl monsters?"

"Of course!" Undyne replied, as if she'd been asked the stupidest question yet. "Who wouldn't love camping and roughing it and making your own food out of a weird bag that can't possibly have enough to feed you!"

Frisk put a hand over their mouth and stifled a more genuine chuckle. Undyne was hamming it up still, they could tell. The fish-knight had a particularly jocular sense of humor, and wouldn't be satisfied until she'd commited at least a few verbal and social outrages. 

_And she tried to hit you with spears._

Where the hell had that come from? _Frickin' doc..._ Frisk shook the thought off as Undyne wound up her routine and paid up for the cooking supplies, arranging for them to be delivered with the next batch of InterRealm Post. 

"So what're you after, kid?" Undyne asked. "I'll treat, I got paid yesterday!"

The storekeep looked skeptically at the small placard with exchange rates and tried to do math to see if the coins he'd been handed tracked...monster gold was strange, not being the least bit like human gold after centuries in a magical underground. He gave up and accepted the payment, tucking it into a safe under the counter as Frisk and Undyne spoke.

"Jacket. I uh, didn't realize it would be quite THIS cold. I forgot how bad it gets up here."

"Frisk! You'll never be my assistant scoutmaster if you can't remember basic survival stuff like appropriate weather-gear!"

That set Frisk to blinking "...your who to the what now."

"Assistant scoutmaster and special independent survival instructor!"

"And...when did we decide I was doing this?" Frisk asked, tilting their head.

"We didn't! I did, and it's just now! You'll be great at it!"

Deciding to puzzle out whether the knight was serious later, Frisk just coughed and looked to the clerk. "Can you uh, recommend a jacket for cold-ish weather that isn't...you know, huge and poofy?"

The employee grunted and walked to the back of the room, gesturing Frisk to follow. "Got just the thing. Small fry like you, you'll still want a medium-reg, not one of the smaller ones. You still want some air inside the jacket, that's what actually warms you up, trapping body heat in the air."

"Or wearing armor near a volcano!" Undyne chipped in helpfully. 

"...yes, or that." The guy said, apparently giving up on trying to rationalize anything that was happening. "Anyway, here it is, M65 US army jacket, early 1980s issue. It's got a padded liner inside you can take out if the weather's too warm, and I can throw in this hood here." He produced a fur-lined, detached hood, and showed Frisk where it connected to the jacket.

"But the jacket already has a hood..." Frisk pointed out. 

"Sure, but it's just a thin rain hood. It'll stop a little wind, not real cold. You roll that out underneath the bigger hood, so you get the same layering effect as with the liner." A bit rude and old-fashioned he might be, but the guy made sense. Frisk considered, then tried the jacket on. It actually hung a bit heavy on Frisk's slim shoulders, but it already felt like it was warming up the second they put it on. Maybe the army WASN'T completely wasteful. "How much?"

"This one's in great shape, only has one small repair here," He indicated where shoulder epaulette straps had been replaced with newer, browner canvas instead of the originals in olive drab. "And its a quality stitching. I can let it go for sixty bucks or thirty eight gold." He pointed a finger at Undyne. "No haggling, I saw how much you still got."

"Psh, fine, I just want the kid to get a jacket. Drive a hard bargain before they head out into the cold, see if I care..." Undyne started counting out the money. 

The clerk glared at her, then sighed. "Fine, damn, thirty two's fine." Undyne beamed as she handed the money over. "Good to see you're a reasonable guy, buddy, and not taking advantage of my friend!"

Frisk busied themselves removing the old twine holding the price tag in place, and handed the tag back to the storekeep. Undyne got a receipt, and out they went, Frisk hiking their new double-hood up and fiddling with the loops and oversized buttons before giving up and just pulling their turtleneck over their nose. They'd figure it out later. "Thanks for the coat, Undyne."

"No prob kid. You can pay me back right now!"

"Um...come again?"

"I didn't know Alphys was here..."

"Classy, Undyne."

"Yup!"

"But seriously, what did you mean?"

"Well, I kinda spent the last of what I had on that coat, cause I didn't realize it'd be THAT much. Could you spot me for one of those poland something sandwiches?"

"Ah, a Maxwell Polish hot dog." How the Chicago classic had come to be at the foot of Mt. ebott was a mystery to everyone, but it was there and Frisk was in agreement with Undyne - that shit was worth a jacket. "Sure thing, Cap'n, I can do that."

"Sweet! Then you can tell me why you're going to the doctor!"

Frisk hitched up a step before resuming walking alongside the night. "It's personal stuff, Undyne. But I'm not sick, I'm not in trouble, I just have something I need taken care of privately."

"Ok, but if lady Toriel knows you're going to a doctor..."

_Why, why, WHY now? We were having a nice time, you freaking....gah, where the hell did THAT come from?_ Frisk shook their head, giving a reassuring look. Well, they hoped it was reassuring.

"Undyne, trust me, alright? I wouldn't lie to Toriel, but no one wants their mom knowing everything, right?"

"OH! That kinda thing! Say no more, kid!"

Frisk almost, ALMOST asked "Wait, what kinda thing," but took the win for what it was, and smiled wryly. "C'mon, let's get that Polish. And you can't tell sans, because when he hears you can't have ketchup on a real Chicago hotdog...someone's gonna have a bad time."

And laughing, the two walked off to the corner of the little plaza, to get their nosh. Any thoughts of spears and chapped fingertips faded away in a medley of grease, starch, and spicy mustard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, it's a bit goofy, but much like Dickens I believe life is as much coincidence as it is anything else. This illustrates a bit of the dichotomy between the pursuit of therapy and the realities of life and relationships.

**Author's Note:**

> I am myself not neuroatypical, but I have certain partially neuroatypical tendencies such as a decreased emotional affect. I do not intend to speak for folks who are truly NA, but only for myself and from my frame of reference. Frisk's expression and "eclectic" approach to various situations resonated with me. Their ability to engage with those who had objectively been abusive to them resonated with some of my own experiences, and I wanted to try a fic in that vein. This will not be a horrible slog of angst and drama, but rather a thoughtful meditation. I hope that it resonates with some. Comments earnestly desired. 
> 
> Yours fraternally  
> wc


End file.
